Skyrim: The story of Mahk
by supporter 985
Summary: I plan for this to be a retelling of Skyrim with my own twist on the tale. I consider the title to be a working title and I'm open to suggestions. I've only written one chapter but I may write more.
1. Chapter 1: The Helgen incident

Mahk sat quietly in the wagon. As it rolled down the cobblestone path the wagon was jolted, making him sway. Mahk turned his head to observe his companions in the wagon. Directly across from him sat a blonde man, a nord judging by the mans' build and square jaw. He was wearing the blue tabard over chain armor of a Stormcloak. Next to the blond Stormcloak sat a brown haired nord, wearing little more than rags with dark circles around his eyes. Next to Mahk sat a third nord dressed all in finery. He had long reddish brown hair, combed back and a gag in his mouth. All four of them had their hands bound.

He turned his head to look around at the rest of the men on the road. A man in imperial armor sat at the reins of their wagon. Ahead of them was another wagon of men dressed similarly to the blonde nord. More Stormcloaks, traitors to his Empire. Further ahead of that wagon sat another imperial soldier mounted on a horse. Behind Mahk's wagon sat yet another imperial soldier astride a horse. All the imperials were armed.

As the wagon tumbled along Mahk pondered on just exactly how he came to be bound in a wagon full of Stormcloaks. He had simply wanted to cross the border to Skyrim. All he had wanted was to return to a simpler life. Then he had seen men on the road. It had been a late, moonless night. They had stopped him with a harsh shout of 'who goes there'. He had called back that he was just a traveler. That was met with 'we've met no one on this trail. You're an imperial.'. 'Just trying to reach Skyrim'. 'You're there, imperial spy!'. This phrase was accompanied by the sound of steel being drawn from a sheath. The man, a man in blue armor similar to his current companions, came into view out of the darkness. Mahk had drawn his sword and began to spur his horse when an arrow thudded into the chest of the man. Then another. And another. He had just crumpled. Mahk, no stranger to battle and death, had wheeled his horse about to look for the bowman. It was at that point that he had felt a sharp tug and the sensation of falling. A soldier must've sneaked up to his horse and pulled him down. He remembered a sharp pain in his neck and then darkness. And now he sat on a wagon, a prisoner once again. He briefly wondered what his charges were, perhaps the Dominion had issued a warrant for his arrest.

Presently the blond nord looked at him and said, "Hey, you. You're finally awake."

Mahk looked at him silently.

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." He must not know that his men had attacked Mahk on the road. Perhaps his attacker had been a scout.

The man dressed in rags turned to look at the nord. He must be the thief. Then who was the man in the finery? The ragged man angrily said, "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell."

Now the ragged nord, the thief, turned to him, "You there. You and me- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." Obviously the man did belong there, as he was a horse thief.

At this point the blonde nord looked to the thief, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, theif." Good, a mediator. The last thing that was needed was a fight. They would likely sit in this wagon all the way to wherever the soldiers were taking them. Likely Solitude, it was the headquarters of the Empire in Skyrim, for trial and sentencing.

The driver of their wagon shouted at them to be quiet. The thief looked at the nord dressed in finery, "And what's wrong with him, huh?"

"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." Ulfric Stormcloak, the man responsible for the rebellion? Mahk groaned to himself.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion." The thief sounded worried. "But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?" Mahk hadn't this. Execution? Would the Empire really abandon it's own rules and execute prisoners without any proper sentencing? It'd fallen from grace but surely the Empire would not resort to that. It would be foolish beyond belief. Ulfric would go from being a leader to a martyr. The Stormcloak rebellion would never be put down.

The nord said something that pulled Mahk from his thoughts. He caught "Sovngarde awaits."

As they had been conversing a wall had come into view, with a large gate that seemed to swallow the road. As the first wagon approached the doors swung wide. The thief began to panic, his voice becoming hysterical as he struggled to come to terms with the likelihood of impending death. The blonde nord voice assumed a comforting tone, "Hey, what village are you from horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" He sounded close to tears.

"A nords last thoughts should be of home."

"Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorickstead."

Up ahead a Imperial soldier shouted, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!". So these Stormcloaks were to be executed, and the horse thief too, likely as not. It was a grave charge to steal a horse. Mahk wondered what his charges were and if his road would end here today.

The general responded with an affirmative shout. The thief began to pray frantically to the divines. Ralof, his voice filled with contempt, said "Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." It made sense the Thalmor would be there, with the capture of Ulfric they likely believed they'd put an end to the so-called false worship of Talos. All the same, it boded ill for Mahk as well. If he'd simply been caught up in the confusion he'd be freed but if the Thalmor recognised him...

Ralof reminisced about the village they had entered, "This is Helgen." Helgen. Mahk didn't know a good deal of Skyrim's geography but he knew Helgen was not far from the passage in the Jerall mountains between Cyrodiil and Skyrim, they had not come far. Ralof was still talking but Mahk had not paid attention.

The people of this Helgen were gathered on their porches and in the streets, excited to see what the commotion was. Mahk glimpsed a Imperial fort. The wagons began to slow. The horse thief asked aloud, "Why are we stopping?"

The blonde nord answered "Why do you think? End of the line."

The horse thief looked slightly confused. Surely he realised that a headsman meant the journey was over.

The Imperials barked a few orders and the stormcloaks in the adjacent wagon climbed out. In their wagon Ulfric was the first man on the ground, then the thief, then Mahk, and finally the blonde nord. One of the other stormcloaks looked at him and hailed "Ralof".

As they stepped towards the Officers waiting to process them the thief panicked, begging the Stormcloaks to avow to his innocence. Then the Officer in charge, a captain by the look of her armor ordered the prisoners to step towards the block when their names were called. Good, the Empire wasn't doing away with all the fairness and procedure. First Ulfric was called, and his fellow Stormcloaks offered vows and promises and honors. Next Ralof of Riverwood was called and the blonde nord walked to the block. Now they called the name Lokir of Rorikstead. At the calling of this name the thief walked towards the officers, proclaiming his innocence. They didn't call him horse thief however, did they think him a rebel? His pleas fell on the deaf ears of the female redguard captain. When no response was given, the man bolted. The captain gave an order and the thief died with one clean arrow shot.

The man calling names, a nord dressed in the light Imperial armor of a foot soldier, looked at him and ordered him to step forward. The man asked him who he was. He consulted his lists. He turned to the Captain, "Captain. What should we do? He's not on the lists." Mahk was relieved- now he'd be questioned and freed after the executions. Finally he could live the-.

"Forget the list. He goes to the block." What? No, he couldn't be executed he wasn't a criminal. Mahk was certain that his rage showed on his face. How dare they execute a man who was innocent of any crime.

He briefly considered fleeing. Behind him was General Tullius and perhaps a dozen or more soldiers. In front of him were arches, angry townsfolk, the Captain, and the soldier reading the list. To his left was the block and the prisoners. His right however, was unguarded. There was a house with a thatched roof and behind that was the walls extending out from the fort. He could dash behind there, confuse the guards, and maybe make and escape. Also ahead of him was a tower with no door and an inn. If he could make it to the tower he could probably leap over the wall but the fall would be enough to kill or seriously injure him. No escape. If only he could reason with them. No, perhaps he could make an escape while everyone was focused on the executions. Mahk turned and followed the Captain to the rest of the prisoners, the block directly in front of him.

General Tullius was there and he admonished Ulfric for his actions. Mahk wasn't listening but he heard the General say "Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." Ulfric couldn't respond because of his gag. Tullis spoke of restoring peace. Mahk saw no way out.

A priestess of Arkay began to give them their last rights. She was interrupted by a stormcloak soldier long before she could finish but Mahk heard her say Eight divines, not nine. Of course, here in the presence of the officers of the Empire and Thalmor agents she could've been put to death for saying nine but Mahk also saw that she was young. She had likely never known a world where Talos was openly worshipped, with the Great War being some thirty years past. Perhaps she regarded these rebels as religious extremists fighting for a false god. This was true on the face of it but Talos was his god too, and though Mahk didn't agree with their methods the Stormcloak cause was just.

This philosophical thought was cut off when the Stormcloak soldier, who was now positioned over the block said "come on, I haven't got all morning." Brave words but he was little more than a boy. He was either a reckless fool unafraid of death or, Mahk thought more likely, putting on a brave face for himself and these soldiers.

The Captain force the lad down and rested a foot on his back, to keep him from ducking the axe. The headsman lifted his great axe behind him and, putting his full weight and strength into the blow, took off the boy's head with one swing. The head was removed from the basket and impaled on a stake. The Empire had changed.

The Captain pointed to him. He had to think fast. Then he remembered. He was no mage but he had learned a spell in his youth that was all but lost to time, voice of the Emperor. But he had to have his hands fear and he had to know the symbols to visualize. He stepped up to the block. He was forced down, the Captains foot on his back weighing him down. The headsman lifted his axe. Mahk, utilizing both his surprising strength and the Captain's surprise, forced himself away from the block. The axe came down too late. The captain drew her sword and slashed wildly. Luckily her cut was vertical and Mahk lept back but outstretched his arms so that her slash severed his bindings. The symbols seemed to suddenly appear in his mind and a green glow briefly washed over those in attendance.

Everyone around him had drawn weapons, excluding the prisoners of course. Mahk turned to face the General, prepared to shout at him the injustices of executing a man who had committed no crime when the whole world seemed to shake. Mahk very nearly lost his footing, stumbling with the sudden force. When he regained his footing he was bewildered, no one had struck him.

Mahk turned and looked at the tower in front of him. Perched on that tower was a great monster. It seemed to be formed of ebony but it was quite clearly living. It had great wings, like a bats, that gripped the tower. It's head, slightly similar in regards to it's body as that of a bird of prey, was elongated. It was narrow in the front where it's maw was, then widened as it went back, ending in gigantic horns. It opened its maw and seemed to screech something unintelligible. The world seemed to swim. Black spots appeared before his eyes. His last thought before darkness overtook him was Dragon.

When Mahk awoke it was in a world of fire and smoke. He thought he smelled sulfur. Something awoke in his mind and he jumped to his feet ready to fight. But no, Mahk thought, this is Helgen. I'm safe. Then he remembered. The monster. The dragon.

Mahk knew little of dragon lore. He had read some in books and of course Septims and dragons minted on them. The Septim kings had been called dragon Kings.

There was a house still standing near him and he rushed inside, looking for anything to use as a weapon. This is madness, how do I fight a dragon. All the same he grabbed a small knife, used to cut venison. It was small but it would do. Might even kill a man if he could put it through an eye.

Mahk looked down at himself. For the first time since awaking in the wagon he realised he was in threadbare rags, like the thief. His armor had been in his saddlebag, along with all the supplies he'd brought with him.

Upon exiting the house an Imperial soldier stood there. Mahk thought he'd have to fight the man but the soldier made no moves. Mahk recognized the man as the soldier who'd read the lists. Hadavar the Captain had called him.

"We have to work together to stay alive"

Hadavar nodded in agreement. Perhaps avoiding the headsman's axe in such a dramatic way had earned him a level of respect with the man.

Mahk and the man ran through the ruins of the town. They saw people burning alive. Roofs collapsing. Walls falling. Mahk saw a boy watch his father die screaming. When another of the townsfolk moved to save him, both were caught in the dragons wrath.

Mahk and Hadavar ducked against a low stone wall and the dragon landed atop it, failing to take notice of the two men crouched below its' leathery wings. When the dragon flew away Mahk and the nord made a dash down the alley to the main road that ran through Helgen. From there it was a short run to the fort. Mahk ran past General Tullius, still astride his horse, trying to organize a retreat. Mahk and Hadavar reached the fort.

"Are you mad, that thing'll crumble any moment." Came Mahk's ragged shout over the roar of the dragon.

"There are underground passageways."

"Did you feel the tremors"?

At that moment Ralof appeared with three stormcloaks behind him. All were armed. "Come with us. We'll save you from that thing."

Despite the danger Hadavar managed to scoff, "You save an imperial. Never!"

Barely pausing Mahk said no. He'd heard of the Stormcloak violence and bloodlust during the Great War. The slaughter of reachmen fighting a just cause. The slaughter of innocents who had even talked to a reachman.

"Still loyal to the Empire that tried to kill you?"

To that Mahk merely smiled and shrugged as if to say 'it was nothing'.

The four stormcloaks charged. Hadavar met Ralof's axe with his sword. Mahk dodged to one side and charged a Stormcloak. He grabbed the woman's axe and nearly wrestled it from her grasp when a sword sprouted from her chest. He saw Ralof on the ground, regaining his feet and another Stormcloak that lay motionless. Hadavar was no common soldier. The final Stormcloak charged Mahk, raising his great sword over his head. Mahk expertly threw the won axe into his unprotected chest. It was no killing blow.

"Run."

Mahk knew he was outmatched here. He had no weapons or armor and the dragon still swooped overhead. He saw that one of the walls ahead had crumbled and raced towards it, not even turning back to see the fate of the wounded stormcloak. Scaling the rubble quite effortlessly, Mahk leaped to the frosted ground below. Beyond him lay the wilderness of Skyrim.


	2. Chapter 2: The Wilderness

**Authors note: So I went back and reread some of that first chapter. I had come home after a long and trying day and just sat down and wrote for three hours. I notice I began to slip that whole last page (maybe before I haven't reviewed it too much). Anyway, I did a few updates to the last page (which is roughly from when Mahk awakes to when he leaps from the wall. Anyway not planning much story or exposition for this chapter.**

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Mahk landed nimbly on his feet. The land here was cold and hilly. It was an Alpine forest and little brush or undergrowth. He spotted a rocky outcropping and ran towards it. He tumbled slightly down to the bottom of the outcropping to discover a dark cave opening. He duck just inside, praying to the nine that no hungry bears awaited just inside. Mahk noticed his breath steaming in front of his face. It was cold this side of the Jerall mountains.

The dark haired man, with a formerly neatly trimmed goatee that now grew ragged, heard a great roar in the distance. Mahk looked to see the dragon fly far away into the distance, seeming to disappear into the noonday sun. Mahk sunk to the floor of the cave, exhausted and worried. Mahk had seen much in his life, but he had never once thought he'd see a dragon, much less escape one.

After an hour Mahk got up and began to walk north. He wasn't familiar with the geography of Skyrim and he had no idea where the road was. If he stopped here, in this cold alpine region, with no way of obtaining food and no nearby water source he would likely die. So he walked, always to the north.

After nearly three hours of uneventful walking he spotted a fire in the distance. Mahk crouched down and began to flank the camp, moving forward and to the west. From this vantage he could see three figures. One was obviously a Khajiit, the other two appeared human. Were they friend or foe. They were dressed only in furs. They could be bandits but Mahk had seen no sign of a road. It was unlikely simple highwaymen would camp away from the road. They could be hunters. That would make sense. He'd seen two rabbits and a fox while he'd been walking, and there were likely wolves in this area.

Then they could be outlaws. Khajiit certainly had a reputation for such activities, many of them refining moon sugar into skooma. Many Khajiit wandered the lands in nomad bands, a hard life. Many of them were no doubt reduced to stealing and looting. And, of course, humans had even more of a penchant to turn outlaw.

Mahk no longer had time to ponder this. He heard a footstep behind him and managed to roll instinctively out of the way as a figure armed with dual axes charged him. Mahk had little choice but to run. He weaved between trees and turned to see if the commotion had disturbed those in the camps. As he turned he notice his pursuer, who was between him and the camp, stumble and drop an axe, an arrow sprouting from his shoulder. Mahk had no time to ponder this. He knew he couldn't outrun his attacker, who he saw now was another Khajiit dressed in furs. Mahk was tired and under-nourished, his attacker would catch him. Mahk darted towards the Khajiit, grabbed the fallen axe, and sprung away. The Khajiit, who was bent low charged him. Mahk dodged aside at the last moment. The Khajiit hit a tree but did not fall, still doubled over. Mahk took the axe in both hands, raised it over his head, and, with all his strength, plunged downward into the Khajiit's head. The bipedal man-cat fell, quite dead. Mahk had the presence of mind to pick up the other axe.

The man turned towards the camp. He began to walk towards it and an arrow whistled past him and buried itself in a tree. He heard the Khajiit in the camp howl in rage. Foe. The two humans charged out of the camp. Before Mahk could move they'd closed half the distance between them. Mahk made the decision to stand and fight but he ran further into the trees, to eliminate the threat of the archer.

Both the humans, redguards both of them, one male one female, reached him at the same time. The female had a dagger and a hide buckler. The man had a Waraxe. The woman moved behind him. The man in front of him. He raised his axe. Mahk, desperately relying on luck, simply ducked. The woman realized what was going to happen just a second too late. She raised her shield, and that was what Mahk had counted on. If she had backed away he would've likely died in this lonely stretch of forest, forgotten by the world. But she hadn't. Her arm was shattered by the force of the blow. The shield was strong enough and the axe dull enough that the axe bounced off. Mahk rolled and stood and grabbed the axe by the shaft, his hands just above those of the wielder. The woman had rolled past them. They were on a slight incline and Mahk had the advantage. He vaulted into the man and both of them fell. The axe fell too and fell atop the unfortunate woman's leg, along with the brunt of Mahk's weight. She screamed.

Mahk was atop the man. He quickly snatched the woman's dagger and lunged for the redguards throat. After a brief struggle the knife sunk into the soft flesh. Mahk stood and took the dagger.

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Mahk belly-crawled, circling around the camp. The Khajiit who he had first spotted stood their with a bow, arrow nocked. Despite his more sensitive hearing he hadn't noticed Mahk approach. Perhaps it was the roar of the flame, or the blood likely rushing to his ears.

The Khajiit had begun edging away from the fire towards the forest. Mahk sprung to his feet and charged, dagger in hand. He slashed with the little blade, cutting the bowstring. The Khajiit drew a shortsword. Mahk grabbed the sword hand and forced it away, stabbing the dagger into the Khajiits chest. The Khajiit crumpled away. He retrieved the blade.

Mahk walked to where he'd killed the two redguards. He wasn't for sure what he was looking for. Suddenly he heard a whimpered cry. He turned and looked at the source. The redguard woman hadn't died. Her leg was half severed and her arm shattered. Mahk considered his options. He realised he only had two. Walk away and leave her to slowly die, or finish her. Mahk opted for mercy.

He felt a sudden biting pain. He looked down. Blood was pouring from his side, soaking his rags. He'd no idea when he'd been wounded but it looked bad. Mahk stumbled towards one of the tents by the fire. He saw a small glass container full of a light red color. It could only be a healing potion. Mahk fell as he reached the tent. He hauled himself into the lip of the tent with one arm and grabbed the potion.

Mahk poured half the contents directly onto his wound and drank the rest. He gained his feet and walked over to the fallen Khajiit. He removed what furs that weren't soaked in blood. Mahk wrapped himself in the furs and collapsed into one of the tents, all his strength failing him.

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Mahk awoke sometime early the next day. He stumbled out of the tent and vomited. He still hadn't regained his strength. The healing potion had saved his life but it hadn't nourished him. He did a thorough search of the four dead bodies. He found several small knives, another sword on the first Khajiit, and a few bits of food. And more furs. In the tents he discovered full waterskins. Despite his limited strength he drug the Khajiit away from the tents to the far side of the clearing. No need to attract dangerous wildlife.

Mahk took his loot and returned to the tent. The fire was long extinguished but he had no remaining the strength to gather the necessary wood and kindling. The furs would have to suffice for warmth. Mahk ate a carrot he'd found, and a bit of charred unidentifiable meat. He took some water and fell asleep.

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Mahk awoke and left the tent. He felt better than he had since crossing the border. Suddenly he was bowled over. A figure was atop him, a knife at his throat.


End file.
